Richard Chenevix, fully Richard Chenevix Trench, Archbishop of Dublin
Chenevix, fully Richard Chenevix Trench, Archbishop of Dublin
Irish-born English Poet, Biblical Scholar, Philologist, Author and Archbishop of Dublin
As the kernel of old humanity, Noah and his family, was once contained in the ark, which was tossed upon the waves of the deluge; so the kernel of the new humanity, of the new creation, Christ and His Apostles, in the little ship.
For we must share, if we would keep, that blessing from above; Ceasing to give, we cease to have; such is the law of love.
He has brought himself to this state; he has exposed his heart as a common road to every evil influence of the world, till it has become hard as a pavement.
If we with earnest effort could succeed To make our life one long, connected prayer, As lives of some, perhaps, have been and are; If, never leaving Thee, we have no need Our wandering spirits back again to lead Into Thy presence, but continued there Like angels standing on the highest stair Of the Sapphire Throne: this were to pray indeed!
Prayer is not overcoming God's reluctance; it is laying hold of His highest willingness.
We live not in our moments or our years: the present we fling from us like the rind of some sweet future, which we after find bitter to taste.
We speak of persons as jovial, as being born under the planet Jupiter or Jove, which was the joyfullest star and the happiest augury of all. A gloomy person was said to be saturnine, as being born under the planet Saturn, who was considered to make those who owned his influence, and were born when he was in the ascendant, grave and stern as himself.
We kneel, how weak; we rise, how full of power! Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong, Or others--that we are not always strong, That we are ever overborne with care, That we should ever weak or heartless be, Anxious or troubled, when with us is prayer, And joy and strength and courage are with Thee?
It was Lazarus' faith, not his poverty, which brought him into Abraham's bosom.
Language is the amber in which a thousand precious and subtle thoughts have been safely embedded and preserved. It has arrested ten thousand lightning flashes of genius, which unless fixed and arrested might have been as bright, but would have also been as quickly passing and perishing as the lightning.
Even the world, that despises simplicity, does not profess to approve of duplicity.